


Scholarship

by poisonivory



Series: Go Vikings! [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonivory/pseuds/poisonivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has dinner at the Starks'. It's anyone's guess whether he or Tony is less thrilled about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scholarship

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Go Vikings! high school AU. You should probably read [Helicopter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/449887) first.

Steve shifted his weight and winced as the intricately hand-carved antique chair beneath him creaked loudly. It had never creaked before, but now it seemed like every time he so much as breathed deeply, the chair let out a groan like it was on the brink of shattering into matchsticks.

Of course, a lot of things were happening this fall that had never happened before.

“Well, Steven, you’ve certainly had a growth spurt since we’ve seen you last,” Mrs. Stark said, breaking the silence. “That summer camp must have done wonders for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said. “It was...a really amazing summer.”

“That’s lovely. You’ll have to tell us all about it,” she said, minutely adjusting the elegantly-folded napkin on her plate for the seventeenth time.

“It’s all that fresh air,” Mr. Stark said. “Manual labor, getting back in touch with nature, the simple life! Turns a boy into a man. Of course, I spent my adolescence tinkering in a lab, but it made me a billionaire before I was thirty, so I suppose I can’t complain, right, Steven?”

Steve and Mrs. Stark both laughed uneasily. Mr. Stark craned his neck, looking back at the door. “Speaking of tinkerers, where the hell is that son of mine?”

They heard the front door slam, and Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There were voices in the hall, probably the servants telling Tony to hurry to the dining room, then footsteps.

“Sorry I’m late,” Tony said as he came into the room. “Pepper and I were - ” He stopped short when he saw Steve. “What’s _he_ doing here?”

“It’s the first Friday of the month,” Mrs. Stark explained.

“And…?”

“And Steven is here for the same scholarship dinner he’s had with us the first Friday of _every_ month for the past two years,” Mr. Stark finished impatiently. “And _he_ was on time. Now sit down so we can eat, I’m starving.”

Tony stalked to his chair, still staring at Steve. “That was you?” he asked.

Steve squirmed. He’d been lucky to get the Stark Scholarship to Timely Preparatory Academy, he knew, but even two years in he still felt a bit weird about it. If it were just up to him, he’d much rather have gone to the local public high school with Bucky, but his mom had been so _proud_ when he’d gotten the acceptance letter from the scholarship committee. He hadn’t had the heart to refuse it. Besides, he and Bucky still hung out after school and on weekends...or at least, they _had_.

He bit back on the thought. Thinking about Bucky, about the way he’d looked at Steve when his parents had shown up halfway through the summer and bundled him off to their new life in Russia with barely time for a goodbye, still hurt.

It hurt almost as much as the fact that Bucky had stopped answering his emails three weeks ago.

“Yes, of course it was Steven,” Mr. Stark snapped. “Which you’d know if you didn’t miss half the dinners and spend the other half texting your girlfriend!”

“Not that Virginia isn’t a very nice girl,” Mrs. Stark added soothingly.

Tony slumped in his seat. “Pepper’s not my girlfriend,” he muttered in the general direction of his salad fork. “She’s just my...Pepper.”

“Do you know Virginia, Steven?” Mrs. Stark asked.

Steve was grateful Tony had called her Pepper, since he’d practically forgotten her real name. Of course, Tony never called _anyone_ by their real name. “Yes, she’s actually in my civics class this year.”

“Civics, now there’s a useful subject,” Mr. Stark said. “Why aren’t you taking civics, Anthony?”

Steve winced, and Tony shot him a baleful look. “Gee, Dad, it must be because I’m such a huge disappointment.”

“I think civics is at the same time as advanced calc,” Steve tried. “So, you know, Tony couldn’t take both.”

“I don’t need your help, Wonder Boy,” Tony snapped, as Mr. Stark’s phone rang.

“Anthony!” Mrs. Stark admonished.

“Yeah?” Mr. Stark said into the phone. “What? No! Tell them to...oh, dammit. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Howard, no,” Mrs. Stark said as he hung up.

“Can’t be helped. Those jackasses in R&D apparently can’t do a thing without me there to hold their hands.” Mr. Stark stood up. A manservant whooshed silently into the room, summoned by some invisible signal, and helped him into his suit jacket. “Thanks. Bring the car around, would you?”

“But Howard, it’s a family dinner,” Mrs. Stark protested. “And Steven will think you’re being rude.”

“Ah, I…no, that’s...okay,” Steve said. He really wasn’t offended by Mr. Stark leaving, but he didn’t want to disagree with Mrs. Stark, either. He sank lower in his chair, hoping to let the family squabble sail over his head. It creaked. Tony smirked.

“See? Steven’s fine,” Mr. Stark said. “Enjoy the dinner, son. You too, Anthony.”

Tony’s smirk vanished.

“Howard!” Mrs. Stark said, and followed him out of the dining room. Steve could hear them arguing from the hall.

Then the dining room was silent, except for the dull sound of Tony rattling his bread knife against the pristine white tablecloth. “Do you think your mom’s coming back?” Steve said after a long moment.

Tony cocked his head, listening to the muffled arguing in the hall. “Nah. Fights like this mean she locks herself in her room until noon tomorrow and Dad sleeps in the pool house.”

His poor-little-rich-boy bravado was straight out central casting, but Steve couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, even if Tony _was_ kind of a jerk. He was no good at putting people at their ease, that was Bucky, but… “Are _you_ okay?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me, Dr. Phil. I don’t need pity from some ‘roided-up charity case in a cheap shirt three sizes too small.” He dropped the knife and made a shooing motion with both hands. “Obligation over, Nicholas Nickleby. You can scurry on home now.”

Steve’s usual faint irritation at Tony sharpened into actual anger. “Hey, screw you,” he said, standing up. The chair let out a noise that sounded like a gasp of relief. “You’ve got family problems? Well, I’m sorry, but they’re not _my_ fault, so don’t take them out on me. Maybe you should spend less time trying to impress everyone with how clever you are and more time actually showing up, _Anthony_.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Steve was through caring. He stalked towards the door, and was halfway through when Tony called, “Hey, wait.”

Steve sighed impatiently and turned around. Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We still owe you dinner, right? I mean, that’s the deal?”

“Not exactly,” Steve said warily. If this was leading up to another crack about his family…

“Well, I asked the cook on the way in and she said it was Cornish game hens stuffed with _goose liver_ ,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose as he tapped out a number. “Now, as pointlessly tiny birds go I like a game hen as much as the next guy, Cornish or otherwise. But I wouldn’t feel right feeding you liver and letting you die of grodiness now that you’re finally tall enough to go on rollercoasters.” He put the phone to his ear. “You want in on this pizza?”

Steve hesitated.

“Yeah, hi, this is Tony Stark...yeah, at the Stark place. I’d like a large pie, with...pepperoni?” He looked at Steve again and pointed at the phone. “Come on, big guy, Frankie’s waiting.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Yeah, pepperoni’s good.”

“Great. Large pie, pepperoni. Uh-huh. Okay. Thanks.” Tony hung up the phone, and Steve started back for his chair. “Oh, don’t sit down again, that poor chair barely survived the experience last time. There’s soda and stuff in the kitchen.”

He got up and Steve followed him down the hall. Steve had never actually been in the Starks’ kitchen before, and it took several twists and turns before they reached it. “It’s a pretty spindly chair,” he said, trying not to sound defensive.

“No kidding. My mom loves Thor Odinson to pieces, but she doesn’t even let him in the dining room when he comes over. And Volstagg? Forget it.” They reached the kitchen and Tony swung open the fridge. “Coke okay?”

“Sure. Uh...thanks, Tony.”

Tony took two cans out of the door and kicked it shut. “Don’t get excited, Rogers. This doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything.”

He tossed a can to Steve, who caught it and placed it on the counter to settle before opening it. “Thank God for that.”

Tony snorted a laugh, and Steve let himself smile. No, they weren’t friends. But they were being civil to each other, the kitchen bar stools looked sturdy enough to hold him, and no one was going to have to eat liver.

He’d take it.


End file.
